All is lost, hope remains, but the war’s not over
by Maieuticaa
Summary: What if sam completed the third trial back in season 8 and died? What if Dean died three years later and left a broken and human Castiel alone on earth to deal with everything? Super angsty and sad I'm so sorry The title was inspired by the song "shattered" Trading Yesterday. English is not my mother tongue I'm sorry if there are any typos -maieuticaa


Castiel just couldn't bear the pain. He wasn't new to it, not at all, but being human and feeling that kind of pain was something else.

He didn't know how he managed to get into the impala without collapsing ten times, only God knows -screw him- how he drove to the bunker without crashing the car and just end everything.

He wasn't feeling just mere pain in his chest, there was this hole, carved in his -not really his- human flesh, reminding him of what happened in the last three years and how he wasn't able to fix things anymore. He was completely and utterly shattered.

He had to get very drunk in order to do what had to be done.

He thought that maybe, maybe, the amount of ache he was feeling right now was a little of a taste of the infinite crashing hell pain Dean must have felt in that church, when Sam died saving the world again, when he'd lost him forever, when castiel witnessed the end not only of Sam Winchester, but also of Dean.

Oh Dean.

Three years had passed since the gates of Hell were closed, three years in which he saw the eldest brother slowly killing himself, and eventually he managed to do it. His body now was a burden -no no not burden just... responsibility- of his and he couldn't let Dean, his best friend since forever, the man he started to love but never dared to give it a chance, down and not fulfill his last wish. He knew exactly what he had to do, but first he had to prepare himself and get drunk, no way he could do such a thing sober.

Lights were starting to fade down the horizon line and another day was going to finish, the night was approaching without hurry as Castiel, numbed by the all the alcohol he engulfed in the past two hours, was walking towards the beautiful Impala.

That car was the second most important thing in Dean's life, the first one was clearly his Sammy Watch our for Sammy was most likely his constant mantra. Even after Sam's death he constantly said those four words to himself before any hunt and, when he returned from a particularly exhausting one and got drunk, he would allucinate about his little brother, call out for him at night at the top of his lungs and eventually cry and cry and cry. Castiel of course had always been there for him, he wasn't an angel anymore, he couldn't fix everything but he could try, he could hug him and comfort him "Sam's in heaven Dean, don't worry he's fine and you will join him, will see him again I swear, you two will share an eternity together, so let him have a bit of space, of freedom until his big brother comes and annoys him again" He tried to joke uncertain of the result, so when he saw that Dean had calmed a bit and smiled shyly through the tears, he smiled too, reassuring him again he's never going to leave him until the very end.

He stared at the car for some minutes unable to function. He had to do that, didn't he? Even if he was drunk the pain still remained placed in his heart reviving vividly Sam's funeral, while preparing Dean's one.

He started to collect some wood to build the pyre, remembering Dean doing that the last time: he was utterly shattered, half drunk and his face soaked with tears but somehow he managed to do that straight and alone, not wanting any help. Castiel understood, understood and stayed there watching a broken man trying to stay strong for his little brother, even if he was very dead.

Now he was experiencing the same feelings, his chest was burning and aching, just like the last time and he was barely managing to stay still, just like the last time.

The Winchesters were in fact all that mattered in his life, either when he was a powerful angel of the lord and now he was a miserable broken mortal.

He wasn't thinking about ending his life anytime soon, although he was wondering how would be to end his sufferance, hell, he didn't even know if death would end his sufferance, he didn't know where he was destined to in afterlife now that he was human. He was feeling like that crap of a Shakespeare character, what was his name again? Oh yes, Hamlet, he was feeling like Hamlet. That to be or not to be stuff. It was Sam -thinking of him suddenly hurt him in the chest like a sting buried in his heart- that introduced him to literature, like ages ago, he had to admit that it was good.

The freshly built pyre, ready to harbour the cold body of his friend and burn it, was now staring at him in anticipation. Castiel wasn't ready to say goodbye but he had to. He moved towards the Impala again, admiring it a little bit, unsure how to take care of it after this. He approached the back seats carefully, like he didn't want to wake the man who was resting forever there. Dean was wrapped in a blanket, eyes closed and upper body covered in dried blood. He hold him like the heaviness of the empty shell of the hunter wasn't bothering him at all, took him to the pyre and then started the fire.

He watched in silence, the coldness and darkness of the night all over him by then, recalling the painful past.

"Promise me De'." Sam's last words were carved in his brain, he could remember perfectly then, how Sam stopped breathing: he inhaled one more time and then just nothing, his eyes were open and yet empty still weakly looking at his brother, his head buried in his lap and his right hand that was wrapped in Dean's flannel fabric still there too. He could remember Dean tightening the embrace protectively, holding his dead brother just like in Cold Oak, tears streaming down his face, not daring to move again. He stayed like that for ages.

He could remember Dean finally loosing the contact and placing his perfectly still Sammy with eyes now closed to the ground, he could remember how everybody in that church was crying the death of a hero, even Crowley with his regained humanity. He could remember Dean speaking again, answering his brother "Yeah Sammy I promise you I'll live." Fulfilling his last wish. Then Dean remained silent, no more tears, just void, he had covered his brother in his favourite blanket and softly placed him in the back seats of the car. He had collected a shattered Castiel as well and then headed to Lebanon, Kansas.

Three years after that damned day he did the same for Dean. He was there while the hunter exhaled his last breath, tears streaming uncontrollably, unable to do anything at all, he just stayed there, comforting him in his last moments.

"Promise me Cas." He wanted him to promise he would live, but also he would take care of his body, give him a hunter funeral and place his ashes where they belonged, with Sam's. "Hey Sammy, I'm coming back to you little brother." Those were his last words, and then he died in a blink with an expression of peace on his face.

Cas hugged him tight. Oh god that scene again he thought. He wiped his tears and looked at him deeply "you're finally happy, finally with Sam," a sob escaped his lips "i owe you so much Dean, and yeah, I promise, Love you."

Dean had wanted a grave for Sam, well he wanted a grave where he could talk to Sam, something to fill the void. Graves are mostly for the living ones he always thought. So they had found a little quiet place in the forest near the bunker, it was pretty hidden by high trees and almost magical for its beauty. This place quite reminded Castiel of Sam's hair, he didn't know why, but being human was odd, he never said that to Dean though.

They had placed a modest, clean and grey tombstone under the higher tree "high beautiful person, high beautiful tree" Dean later said.

The inscription on it said:

S.W.

Beloved Brother

5 2 1983 - 5 15 2013

Nice and simple, just as Sam would've wanted. Dean insisted on putting his initials too on the tombstone, just below Sam ones. He didn't tell Castiel he wanted to be placed there after his death, But after all he didn't have to.

D.W.

Beloved Brother

1 24 1979 -

The fire of the pyre consumed as Castiel sobbed and cried silently. I already miss you man, I miss you two boys. He said to himself. He stared there watching the flames for hours, tired, numb almost absent. once in a while he took a sip from the bottle of Jack Daniels -Dean's favourite- he brought with him. He thought about passing out once or twice, but then he just drank his pain away.

He noticed then how the night was slipping away and the day, carried by the old sun, was peeking from afar.

Another day, a new day, the first one without the winchesters. He tried to hold the tears the best he could and adjusted himself a bit, he was a mess outside just like inside.

He collected Dean's ashes inside of a little jar, he gave a few more looks to the sunrise and the pyre and then set out to the grave.

The pain he felt was partially eased by the thought of the long awaited reunion of the brothers, he even found himself smiling while he imagined the tight hug in which Dean must have locked Sam for several minutes. That man lived for chick-flick moments despite his strict rule.

He got to the magical place in an hour or maybe two, he stared at the tombstone for a while, unsure of what to do, he decided to pray then, not to God no, he wasn't there listening he didn't care. He prayed to Sam and Dean, he knew they where there to listen. When he was finished he scattered Dean's ashes in the same place they scattered Sam ones. He reunited their bodies along with their souls, he allowed himself to smile a bit. Next thing to do: inscribe the date of Dean death, funny enough it was the same of Sam's -5 15 2016- only three years apart. Those two couldn't be normal, could they? He would have done that later, maybe tomorrow he thought.

Castiel was about to leave when he noticed something that spread him with unexpected joy: there were two little shoots, chained one to the other, growing from the ashes. It was impossible, almost supernatural, but it was clearly like planet earth was paying a tribute to its heroes. Magical place, this was definitely a magical place.

Then Castiel just headed back, almost laughing to himself, he was going to be ok, he knew it deep in his heart.

He decided to keep hunting, always alone, moving from place to place just to come back home and visit the brothers once in a while. The shoots soon became little trees, oh and they were beautiful.

He never used Baby in his hunting trips but he took care of it, keeping it as beautiful as it has always been and often imagined the proud smile of Dean from heaven seeing him doing that. He loved that smile.

Eventually his time came ten years after Dean's death, he bled out to death in a camp in Wisconsin looking at the stars.

He didn't say anything he was just relieved by the fact that maybe, maybe, there was a room for him in heaven too.


End file.
